Snow Day
by ImJustWingingThis
Summary: It looked like they were going to have a White Christmas.


As a child, Sam's favorite season was always winter. When the air had a sharp nip to it and the wind would whip across his face leaving it a burning red. It was always fresh, crisp, and cold, but his favorite thing about it all? Snow.

It was very rare that John allowed Sam and Dean to be the children that they were, so soon Sam became content simply observing. He loved watching the tiny individual snowflakes swirl and dance as they made their way from the sky to land on earth, no specific destination in mind, just earth. It was ironic how similar it was to the route destined for him, spinning and floating through life, just trying to do his job.

Dean had picked up on his obsession with the frozen crystals early on. Sam has a distinct memory of an eight-year-old Dean waking him in the middle of the night to watch the first snowfall of the season. He had spent countless days and nights waiting for the signs, just waiting so he could see the look on Sammy's face. To see this big, four-year-old, eyes go wide in awe and brighten in excitement. Sam had spun with his arms stretched out wide and his mouth hanging open in an attempt to catch the snowflakes on his tongue. Dean just smiled and watched as the white powder sprinkled the ground and dusted both of their hair.

As they got older they would sometimes park Baby out in an open field and lay out on the hood allowing themselves to be covered in the snow. It wasn't something they had time for very often, but the look on Sam's face always brought Dean back to that moment. No matter how old they got, Sam would always be that four year old with the same look in his eyes – one of innocence and awe and wonder about the miracles of the world.

Sam had woken up early to go for his morning run to find, the bunker colder than usual. He was prepared to face the cold, as he should be considering it was the middle of December, but he wasn't prepared for what waited for him outside the door. Sometime in the night the clouds had opened up and the moisture mixed with the frigid air leaving not just a powdering but entire blankets of snow.

He trudged out into the ankle deep piles, not caring as some melted into his shoes making his feet freeze. It was really happening. They hadn't had a proper snow in years. It was always icy and wet, but this was perfect. It was soft and powdery, as if the world were a dessert dusted with powdered sugar.

Dean tended to wake up soon after Sam left. He shuffled through the kitchen to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee before heading into the library. From there, though, he could feel the draft of cold air drifting through from the open door. He knew Sam went for his runs, but he never left the door open. Ever.

Dean gently placed his cup down on the glossed table before reaching for one of the many hidden guns stashed throughout the bunker, this one being from behind a few books on the bookshelf. He slowly stalked up the spiral staircase, pistol cocked at the ready, to the open door. He had expected the worse but instead he simply got his moose of a brother kneeling in the snow. There was no sign of a fight, nothing seemed wrong, but there his brother sat.

Dean was confused at first until he noticed what Sam was doing. His hands kept sweeping back and forth, sifting through the soft snow, just admiring the world. That's when it clicked for Dean. His brother was happy for once, calm and content. But as much as he loved to see his little brother happy, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to mess with him. After all he was the teasing big brother.

Discarding his weapon on the metal box on the wall, Dean bent over to scoop up a large ball of snow before hurling it at the back of his brother's head. It exploded upon impact, littering Sam's majestic mane with specks of snow that quickly melted leaving wet spots. Sam had flinched and spun around, ready for a fight, before realizing what had happened. He quickly scooped up a mass of snow before throwing it back at Dean. It hit him square in the chest allowing chunks to fall down through the collar of his sleep shirt, freezing his skin and making Dean notice his lack of proper attire.

The fight continued back and forth, each landing blows and sending snow flying through the air, some even through the still open door of the bunker. Dean decided he had to go all in if he was going to win this. So he took off running, charging directly at Sam before slamming into him and knocking them both into the snow bank. They wrestled for the upper hand, fighting to pin the other. It was like they were children again. Sam finally used his size to his advantage and was able to overpower his older brother. He buried his brother in the snowbank before jumping to his feet and bolting back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Dean tried to catch him, but he wasn't fast enough and ended up running into the cold metal door. He pushed and pushed on the door, but Sam had locked it and was pressed up against it for good measure. Dean began pounding on the door, the cold setting in through his now soaked robe and sleep clothes. "Dude, come on! Let me in!" Dean beat on the door, but all he was met with was the muffled laugh of his younger brother.


End file.
